


When we all fall asleep where do we go

by thatbluenote



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Cheating, Come Marking, Control, Cunnilingus, Dream Sex, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, post season 2 episode 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatbluenote/pseuds/thatbluenote
Summary: Beth and Rio are going to fuck on a literal pile of money, you know what you came here for.





	When we all fall asleep where do we go

**Author's Note:**

> _What do you want from me / why don’t you run from me  
>  Why are you wondering / what do you know  
> why aren’t you scared of me / why do you care for me  
> when we all fall asleep where do we go_  
> (billie eilish, ‘bury a friend’)

* * *

 

 

The pristine kitchen is a lie. Beth tries to ignore it for as long as she can.

“Just hurry up,” she says standing at the kitchen sink, praying that the shock of Dean inside her after so long will knock the thought right out of her head. This has to be it -- the way out of her own head. And oh, that intoxicating surge when his eyes had gone so wide:  _ Take off your pants.  _

_ Claim me _ , she wants to scream just then.  _ Don’t let me think about anything else _ . It’s the only way this goddamn thing will work.

But Dean? His breath at her neck huffs loud, humid with stale coffee, his mouth sending the wrong kind of shiver down her skin; his hands on her skin fumble too long. “Just...just do it.”  _ Before I lose my nerve.  _

The longer she waits, the less she can ignore the lie, stark and obvious in front of her. Not a single soggy spaghetti strand lingers in the sink strainer. Sponge so clean it looks boiled. Suddenly, she can smell it everywhere, as obvious as cheap perfume.

“Come on.  _ Do it. _ ” Still hoping this has the power to erase everything.

But it smells like church bathrooms, like pizza parlor party rooms. Whoever he’d hired to clean the house must have used Fabuloso all over her nice kitchen. That toxic purple pine-sol knockoff shit. 

Nothing has changed. She has fixed their life, saved their mortgage, and Dean can’t shuttle the kids around for more than a day before he has to slip a couple fifties to a housecleaner. It sinks into her, this knowledge.

Dean fucks her over the sink and she does not even bother to pretend. She knows it will be fast. After his first moment of hesitation, it’s exactly the same fuck they always have, and then it’s over. He can be inside her and still not see her. As always.

She fastens the button on her pants without turning to look at him. “Next time, tell them to rinse the floor after they mop. Fewer streaks that way.”

  
  


*

  
  


_ You look good behind that desk.  _ If only she had cracked, if she had hesitated for even a second when he’d said it.

_ Hell, you’d look so much better on top of it. _

If she had, Rio would have bent her over that fucking desk in an instant, would have had her right there underneath him until she sobbed his name. Instead he’s got a key, he’s got his pharmacy back, he’s got fifty-fifty with her on the profits, and nothing more than a memory of that night in the bar to torment him. 

It’s enough to make a man lie awake at night and ache like a teenager. He palms himself, half hard with the memory of her skin under that red dress, the silky wet feel of her cunt clutching him so perfect, and wonders idly, needfully, what it would take to get her to break again. If she won’t waver when they’re alone in that dark office, then when? He’s hungry for it, that look in her eyes of total need for something only he can give her.

He already made his excuses to the other girl he’d been seeing off and on.  _ Too much business, baby.  _ Too much, or not enough? Even his boys notice he’s been restless, razzing him for missing half the usual Friday night party. He doesn’t say it’s because he spent most of his night waiting down the block from the car lot, watching her work late yet again. To make sure his product was safe, he had told himself. It had nothing to do with her, he had told himself, nothing to do with how perfectly she is silhouetted against the dark when she finally leaves, crossing the wide, empty lot, her curves sliding past until he had to bite back a low groan that night, sitting in his own car.

She’ll break soon, he tells himself in bed, willing himself to sleep and failing. She’ll come to you. Pictures how she’ll do it, angry or pleading, on her turf or his. Pictures what he wants -- but that’s not enough. In his dreams, it’s always about what he gives her. He clicks his tongue, annoyed, then finally gives up and reaches inside his pants to pull out his straining cock with a grunt of frustration, trying not to imagine her fingers rolling over the sensitive head. His breath moves faster as the dreams spin through his mind.

It’s always her. Lately, her and that fucking desk again -- except when he presses her up against it, makes her bend over it beneath him, there’s no suit in the way. Only that red dress from the bar. Eyes pleading back over her shoulder. Her whole body so soft, her perfect ass pushing back at him -- his other fist clenches helpless against the bedsheets. He’ll yank up that hem before she even takes a breath, drop to his knees and rip her panties to the side, tear a shocked gasp from her lips with the animalistic force of lust driving him between her thighs. He  _ wants  _ that, he’s desperate for it again, desperate to make those little pleas fall from her lips, wants to do it as he buries his mouth in her pussy, in the sweet, dripping lushness of her. 

The fantasy is not enough, even as he pictures himself below her like that, feasting on her surrender, spreading her wider and wider for him, his jaw and his fingers and his tongue working her to the very brink, rocking her practically on his skull with the need to feel her flutter and spasm tight on his tongue.  _ Rio _ .  _ Rio, please _ . In his dreams, that voice is his undoing. In the bed, he circles his cock hard at the base for a moment but even that can’t hold it back. His grip speeds on his thick length and he moans, vision gone in the fantasy of her as he comes all over himself. He works his hips a little, breathing, returning to himself slowly.

It calms him but it’s not enough. He wants to taste her, to show her what she’s done to him. He wants to break her apart as he himself has been broken apart.

 

*

 

Beth knows what she’s at the storage unit to do, some nights later, and she knows exactly why she arranged it for tonight. It’s a busy week, but tonight she has the time. It makes perfect sense that Beth would go alone to deliver the cash for Rio’s cut of the cars, and, she’d been hoping, to pick up their cut from the pills. She’s got the key. She’s got the time.

It’s fine that he’s here. It’s fine that she’s alone.

She  _ could  _ circle the block and come back when Rio’s car isn’t the only one in the parking lot, plainly advertising that he’s up there in the storage unit  _ right now _ . 

She doesn’t. 

No one’s expecting her home for hours.

  
  


He’s waiting and his eyes dip warily to the briefcase before he searches her face. “Fancy meeting you here, ma.” Unhurried, pushing aside the duffel bag he’d been filling with pills, he licks his lips and sits back on a shrink-wrapped pallet of cash -- all the fake, red-banded dollars they haven’t washed yet -- and he pats the spot next to him for her to sit down.

Something flashes, warm and sudden, through her. In the quiet, in this placeless place, she’s lost all the high ground. How did she think she wouldn’t? It’s just her and him and the tension thrumming so palpably in the air it vibrates inside her skin, a live thing, just as strong as that night at the bar. Beth swallows a shaky breath. It takes her a moment to steady her hand enough to reach out and set the briefcase full of his cash on that spot on the pallet. 

But Rio closes his hand over hers on the handle before she can step back, and looks up into her face. “That’s how this is, now?”

“What do you mean, ‘this’?” If he won’t say it out loud, then neither will she. She’s close enough to see the dark copper in his eyes, and how his expression washes wide and angry and dark and hot with something like frustration right before he yanks her closer.

“This,” he hisses, pulling her closer, half a stumble from standing between his legs. He reads over her face, greedy and searching and seeing too much as always. “This...cash.  Percentages. Drop-offs.”  _ All this push-pull _ . _ This playing chicken on the freeway.  _ He’s not saying it, even though his hand on hers now warms her, trickles fire through her. 

“It’s just...business,” she tries. Her voice betrays her, barely a whisper.

“Try again.” He pulls her closer and she stumbles as his arms cage her in, her breath catching a little. He bites back a low sound in his throat to have her so near, eye-level. “Try. Again. Is this just business?” He tugs at the fluttering hem of her silk wrap dress, rubbing a fold of the material between two fingers. He could mean the dress; he could mean everything.

She knows,  _ she knows  _ she’s lost. She’d known when she picked out the dress that morning, fully aware of where she’d be headed after work. It still stings, the idea that she’s doing this on purpose. The idea that she wants this, wants  _ him _ , when she’s probably just another sidepiece. That idea that she even cares about that, despite herself.

“Answer me,” Rio insists, tugging her chin toward his gaze. “Is it?”

“I don’t know what you--”

“Bullshit,” he says, his voice so soft and so close she can feel his breath caress her skin, and  _ oh God,  _ he’s running his fingertips up the backs of her thighs, slowly, moving under the edge of the dress. Their lips hover millimeters apart. It’s a dare. A thread straining to break. He doesn’t look away from her, he barely breathes, waiting for her, and when she half sobs out a breath and rolls her hips to press back into his hands, needy for more of his touch, he kisses her, fierce and demanding as his palms smooth all the way up to her ass. His tongue takes her mouth and he nips at her lips, he tastes her everywhere. He kneads at the flesh of her bottom as if savoring it, breaking for a breath from their kiss to smack her on the left cheek suddenly, his eyes fiery with what he wants from her, with what he will take from her, with what he knows she needs.

Beth wants to shake into pieces, her desire thunders through her so fast and immediate at his insistent touch. Rio’s hands pull her down onto his lap, tilting her head to kiss her deeper, he’s devouring every sight and sound of her as she grinds down onto him. She pulls open the ties and the hidden catch on her dress, frantic to get his mouth on her. Hips bucking beneath her, he pulls down the cups of her bra and suckles one nipple into his mouth as he works his hand in her cunt, two fingers, three fingers, stretching her a little as she gasps with pleasure. He’s bringing her to the edge so fast she could scream. She is  _ soaking _ , dripping down onto his pants. 

“God, yes. Yes... _ please _ ,” she says into his mouth as he works his fingers in and out of her. She is so close, so close--

He growls and nips at the skin of her neck. “ _ Fuck _ \--”

Beth nearly loses it to hear Rio so gone, so wrecked. She fumbles at his belt until he helps her. “I need you...please. Rio.”

“Yeah? I got you,” he says, lining himself up, ecstasy dropping his jaw as she paints her wetness over the head of his cock. Beth bites her bottom lip in a grin before she sinks down, down, gasping a little to accommodate his girth. “I got you, baby. I got you,” he says, cradling her hips in his hands, helping her.

She rocks over him, a slow rhythm, watching his eyes and how he’s barely holding himself back. He’s whispering.  _ Yes.  _ I got you, baby.  _ Baby. _ The word lights her up. She whimpers, a long, high sound. 

“Yes, let me see you,” he murmurs in her ear, fucking up into her hard, then leaning back to watch her, flushed pink, bra pulled down, rising up and down over him. Beth looks down at him, at the worshipful lust in his eyes, at the way he watches her like a live, wild thing. It’s so utterly different from what they shared at the bar, so much  _ more _ . She doesn’t want to walk away from this. Doesn’t want deniability. She grabs his hand, holds his fingers just right on either side of her clit the way she likes, moves him against her like that so that he can feel the sudden change, the way she goes frantic, bucking on him, against him, chasing it, until she comes all over his cock in a burst, a rush, lighting her up all the way out to her fingertips.

“Fuck, yes.” He gentles her through the aftershocks, still fucking slowly into her, his voice almost pained at what he’s holding back, but you wouldn’t know it to look at his face. Rio stares up at her like she is divine. She is gold. She leans down to his ear, gone lax with the force of her orgasm yet still full of a terrible, consuming hunger for him.

“Rio…”

“Yes,” he says, holding her hips still so he can push up into the tight grip of her.

“ _ Rio _ ,” she insists, so that he pauses a moment, eyes wide and frantic on hers. “Please,” Beth says, draped over him, running her fingers along his biceps and down the muscled planes of his arms, letting her need for him leak into her voice, “don’t hold back...” Waits for him to look at her, gauging, and lets her wrists go lax in his palms.

With a groan, he grabs them and secures her wrists in one huge hand, restraining her arms just enough to make her whine, high and frantic, nodding. His lids fall low as his cock moves deep inside her, not holding his pleasure back now, loving how she moans for it. “Who can give you all this,” he grits out.  _ This _ . The money, the sex. This thing.

Her head lolls back and she whispers it to the ceiling. “You.”

“Who?” He smacks her ass again, hard.

“Fuck--Rio. Rio. You do,” she says, panting it, sitting up straight, staring into his eyes. “You do.”

“No one else, huh?” His lashes flutter a little when he says it. Something more is there.

She shakes her head, murmurs, “Nnn-no.”

“Say it.”

“Nobody...nobody but you.” What is she promising him? She doesn’t care.

“All for you, baby. All of it,” he says, pressing his face into her neck with a hot breath, and she bucks back down onto his cock, hard, not sure now what kind of release threatens tears at the corners of her eyes. She just knows it’s good. It’s so, so good.

It doesn’t take him long, thrusting up into her, restraining her with one hand and one  nipple teased between his teeth, before his groans turn desperate and she can feel his cock swell inside her deliciously right before he pulls out of her, jerking himself in his hand a second before he comes, white and hot and painting over her skin and his together.

Beth stills on his lap, her thighs trembling a little and both of them breathing hard, wishing he’d come inside her. He does not say a word, at first. He pulls her forward, dropping his forehead until it meets hers and they are both looking down. Rio trails his fingers across her exposed stomach and the come dripping there, spreading it, smearing it a little bit, marking her more. She lets out a long, shuddering breath and he laces his wet fingers through hers, holding tight.

He doesn’t let go for a long, long time.

 

*******

**Author's Note:**

> My kingdom for a Brio video edit set to Billie Eilish’s Bury a Friend D: D: D:
> 
> Come holler in the comments about why we keep getting teased with that kiss in trailers and then it’s a no-show!!?


End file.
